Alone, Battered Star
by stylemylifebunny
Summary: This is my first new angsty story, that will look at the dinamics of K2, and how the group of South Park teens deal with love and relationships. POV will change throughout. Erm...yeah X


_**Apple Pirates-Prologue.**_

This couldn't be happening, it wasn't happing, dear god please let this not be happing… The burning sensation increased behind his eyes, his breath reduced to short, sharp intakes. Lowering his gaze from the forest-coloured-emerald gems that gleamed in the fake artificial light, to the floral patterned dull carpet, scuffed under hard shoes. Kyle, _no_, not Kyle… he, he couldn't possibly… Think that-, but he knew he was, and so did Kyle, he couldn't hide it anymore, everyone knew it know.

His mouth went dry, through closed, around an apparent lump. God he _hated_ himself, he was such a waste of space, his weak, trivial carbon form- a joke. A shit faced camel-toe donkey crap retard, who's mama makes him wear is hood up all the time as not to show people his repulsive bone-structure. His hands rose to clutch at the tattered material of his orange paka in desperation, 'They were _**right**_'.

"Kenny.." the sound of Kyle's angelic, concerned voice broke into his thoughts. Anger boiled up. Hate for what he was, what he had been, done, threaded to tear him open and spill his blackened, used, penniless guts, but he held it together he wasn't going to give them the _satisfaction_ of seeing him break…not twice in the same fucking day. No-body wanted him, well who fucking would? He was just a cheap piece of ass that whored around, was open for business, all hours. He was sick in the head, a worthless, replicable, an immoral **thing** that sucked all the life out of everything, and was repeatedly crapped on day after fucking day.

He was _**DIRTY**_.

He snarled, throwing him self backwards out of reach, of Kyle's 'trusting' outstretched hand. Dam him, dam him and his stupid, thick feelings. UGH. He couldn't hold it in any longer, he couldn't breath, he needed to get out, get away. From everything, the looks, the whispers, from them, from him. He didn't want him, didn't need him. That was it. His back hit the whitewash wall. Burning hot tears blurred his vision, covering his pupils before falling, it was like unleashing something inside of him, a dull ache ran through his body. Hands shaking he found his voice, which was just the same, broken.

"You…you don't-don't want…m..m…" he gave up trying to say 'me', knowing that Kyle, god Kyle, was smart enough to understand, it was what he thought after all-"because I'm..I'm..dirty" his last words barely audible through the sobs that seemed to split open his chest, bearing his dead 'soul' to the brittle cold elements.

Fuck, this was so, not breaking. Every moment he spent in the suffocating space the more the bubbling pressure battering his brain seemed to build, increase. The pressure pounding is brain agents his skull was immense, so intense, he could barely make out sounds coming from Kyle? Or was it Stan? Craig? Clyde? Butters? Fuck he didn't care anymore, leaving the raging sound behind, he fled, out into the open fidget night air. It caressed his face, like a loving mother might, not that he would fucking knew. He thought bitterly as he ran. Not knowing were he was running too, destination unknown.

He _just_ ran. The world an echoing blur, as it spun around him. The evening sun casting an orange, purely glow onto the world. Twilight.

Heavy snow covered ground and topped the trees, soon froze him to the core, not that he paid it any mind, just kept on going, not caring. what was the point didn't some smock once say that if no-one cares than you don't really exist ay all? well they where fucking right. Who could love, ha _love _a fucking loser like _him_. Ugh he was just a repulsive _cretin._ Blasphemy, ha Kyle had taught him that word, god fucking darn it. He just couldn't get **him** out of his mind, Kyle deserved so much more than him, so much more…anything, anyone was better than himself. The tears flowed. Rejected. Ha…he was so stupid to even hope. How _dare_ he have such a thing. Ugh. Fuck, fuck FUCKING HELL.

"AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGG" he lost it, turning on the nearest object to realise his anger, desperation, which happened to be an old weather worn, crooked tree that was fighting for it dismal life, just like him.

Just like him.

He slid down to the wet ground, landing hard on his knee's. Sobs becoming erratic, uncontrolled. He curled in wards, head resting on the ground- on dead foliage, smearing grime and dirt across his face. Rocking back he tugged his legs up to his body, embracing them tightly, curling into a tight ball. His spine curled in a grotesque manor, his thin jacket his only protection agents the blustery wind, which tore as him. Flipping his hood back and ruffling his thick, blond hair.

_Darkness_ invaded his vision.

_Darkness_ filled him.

_Darkness_ consumed him.

_Darkness_ ate at his soul, edging into his mind.

_Darkness _left him with nothing, _nothing._

He was **a****lone**.

Unwanted. . .


End file.
